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Kristina Alexander walks out looking flustered, her son Justin only a few feet behind her.
She smiles at me. We’ve always been cordial, but there’s almost thirteen years between now and when we were in high school.
“Doc Ellis is out of town,” she mutters as Justin limps behind her. “He stepped on a nail.”
“Cale tried to cut Cole’s finger off,” I say in commiseration.
“We suck at magic,” Cale adds.
“We don’t say that word,” I tell him, sighing as I look back up at Kristina.
“What’s another word for magic?” I hear Cale ask his brother.
Kristina huffs a laugh, and I can’t help but join her.
“Good luck,” she says as Corbin opens the door to exam room one, no doubt looking for us.
I nod at her.
“Hey there, boys,” the vet says. “Have you convinced Dad to adopt that Husky yet?”
Chapter 4
Madison
“Another one?” Adalynn asks when I hold my empty glass up to Walker.
“Unlike you, Ad, I came here to drink.”
“I came here to drink,” she says, her hands wrapping around her glass of soda.
I laugh. “I’m not trying to insult you. This isn’t high school. No one around here is going to try and pressure you into alcohol consumption.”
She sighs as she looks at me, her eyes darting back and forth.
“You’re different.”
I swallow and look away. It’s been ten years since we graduated, and although we’ve stayed in contact through social media and quick visits when I’d come back to stay with my folks for the holidays, we’re not as close as we once were. I hope to change that, even if I don’t plan on sticking around town any longer than I have to.
“Different how?” I ask.
“Alcohol consumption,” she says in a tone that tells me she’s repeating my words. “You’d used to saydrinkin’.”
The last word has such a Southern drawl to it that it makes me smile.
“Fine,” I agree. “No one’s gonna try and convince you to start drinkin’.”
Her laughter makes me smile wider.
“We’ll get you back to your roots before you know it,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Emotion threatens to clog my throat as I shake my head. “Never.”
“Okay,” she says as if that’s all I have to say to make the conversation about what happened to me in Austin completely off-limits. “Then let’s talk about getting you back on the horse.”
“No horses for me,” I say. “And you sound like my mother.”
She winces playfully. “There are worse people to be than your mother.”
